Tripping Down Memory Lane
by dayuuuumgirl
Summary: Filing for divorce, Jace and Clary resort to Herondale Divorce Firm, where they are forced to reminisce over past memories and to face what really caused their breakup. Rating may later change.
1. Chapter 1

**Please read A/N at the end! It would help me tremendously.**

**Disclaimer: Character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, and backgrounds belong to me. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization.**

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**ONE**

Jace Wayland sat uncomfortably in the fake leather chair in the lobby of Herondale Divorce Firm. He shifted uneasily in the blue Calvin Klein suit, pulling on the tie that was suffocating him.

Well, either it was the tie that made it hard to breathe, or Clarissa Fray's infuriating glare.

He glanced up at her through his eyelashes. She looked good, but that wasn't a surprise. She had _always _looked good, a fact that pissed him off. She had no right to be so hot. None at all.

Now, with the whole smoky eye thing going on, he found it hard to think of anything else except how hot her legs were.

Not that that was enough to make him forget everything she'd done to break his heart.

He returned to the Herondale Divorce Firm brochure, now clenched in his fist. Smoothing it out, he managed to decipher the fancy cursive, despite the many wrinkles.

_Let the road to divorce be as happy as the road to marriage!_

The hell?

He glanced first at the clock and then cast an irritated scowl at the door to the lawyer's office.

12:57. They were now exactly twelve minutes late for their scheduled meeting. Whatever going on inside the office was taking forever.

"Tell me again," Clary's cold, accusing tone drifted from across the room, "Why couldn't we just have filed some papers? This is obviously a waste a time. You probably could have taken someone's v-card in this amount of time."

The implication made his blood boil. "I _told _you, I didn't decide on this. Isabelle signed us up. And no, you're wrong. I could have taken _two_ v-cards by now."

Clary glared, her mouth opening to snap another insult, when the door finally opened. Both turned in surprise to see a middle-aged couple walk out, hugging and embracing. The man used a tissue to wipe the woman's tears.

Behind them stood a tall man whose height rivaled Jace's. He had receding dark brown hair, and when he smiled, his eyes crinkled and almost disappeared in his face.

"Sorry about the holdup," he said, motioning for them to come in. "I'm Stephen Herondale."

"Oh, it was no problem," Clary said, plastering on a charming smile.

Jace rolled his eyes. And who had been complaining a mere few seconds ago?

Nevertheless, he followed his wife into the room and balked. Two chairs sat side by side in front of a plain, brown desk. Herondale sat behind the desk, motioning once more for them to sit.

Jace tugged the chair closest to him and noticed Clary doing the same. Nothing happened.

Herondale laughed. "Those are glued down. Sorry. But please, take a seat."

Grumbling, Clary sat down, squishing herself to one side, as far away from the other chair as possible. Jace gingerly lowered himself into the chair, careful not to make contact.

No use. Their arms brushed and both tensed involuntarily.

Herondale actually chuckled. Jace imagined the asshole's head thrown back in agony as blood splurted from his nose.

"What's so funny?" Clary snapped, apparently dropping the nice façade.

"Yes," Jace said tightly. "Please, enlighten us on the hilarity of this situation." From the corner of his eye, he saw Clary shoot him a furious glare for agreeing.

"Sorry, sorry," the lawyer said, muffling another chuckle. "It's just that the other couple – the one you saw walking out – started just like how you two are behaving right now."

"Well," Jace drawled, just to further infuriate Clary, "I'm sure the ending for us will be quite different."

He smirked as Clary's hands clenched the chair so hard the knuckles turned white.

"Well," said Herondale lightly. "We'll see. So, tell me why you guys have decided to call it the quits."

"Irreconcilable difference," Jace said, just as Clary said, "He's a pretentious douchebag."

Herondale grinned.

Jace arched an eyebrow. "'Pretentious douchebag?' What are we, sixteen?"

"Just saying it like it is," his wife shot back. "And even back then you were one."

"Whoa, whoa." Herondale leaned forward. "How long have you guys known each other? You're only, what, thirty, right?"

"Twenty-eight." Jace glared. "Not nearly that old."

Clary scoffed. "Well, you certainly do look old. With the whole crow's feet and sagging double chin going on."

Jace immediately bristled. "I do not have a double chin! Or crow's feet! These impeccable looks have made even teenage girls swoon."

At the look on Clary's face, he knew he would regret those words. She snickered. "That's not really something to brag about. Maybe we should also file for pedophiling?"

"You – "

"Now, now," Herondale said calmly. "Let's not try to claw each other's eyeballs out. Tell me how you met."

Jace eyed him warily. "I wasn't aware that your job included snooping into others' private lives."

The lawyer remained undaunted. "This is part of the process. Would you like to go first?"

Jace felt his fists clench in fury. Stephen Herondale sucked shit, and he was going to torture Isabelle nonstop once he got home.

"Sure," he said peevishly. "Why not."

"The real version." Herondale gave him a meaningful stare. "Not the evil twisted version you're already making up in your head. And I mean it. If you want this to work, you're going to have to be upfront and honest about everything.

Jace gaped. How had this dude known his exact thoughts? Sighing, he shook his head, knowing it would be pointless to fight back.

"Fine," he agreed stiffly. "This is how it all began…"

…

To third graders, getting a girl's attention required two things. One, good looks.

_Check. _I excelled in that department.

And two, making fun of her.

But for me, I rarely needed to grovel for attention. Instead, I received incessant admiring glances, both overt and surreptitious. Girls loved me. And I, for the most part, ignored them. Sports and bugs held so much more interest.

Halfway through third grade, however, all that changed.

It was a Monday, and I sat near the window, staring out at the playground, thinking of recess and counting down the minutes until the bell. The teacher, Ms. Fairchild, was attempting, and failing, to teach multiplication, when the door swung open.

In walked a small girl with a huge mass of red curls combed into two short braids.

"Class," Ms. Fairchild said. "We have a new student. This is Clarissa Fray. Tell us a bit about yourself, Clarissa."

"It's Clary," Clarissa said quietly. She looked around the room shyly. "And I, um, like to draw."

"Isn't that something," Ms. Fairchild smiled. "Well, there's an empty seat right in front of Jace. Jace, why don't you raise your hand?"

I did so obediently, and Clary's eyes locked on mine. For a second, we stared at each other and my heart jumped queerly in my chest. I froze. My father had died of a heart attack, so maybe that was a symptom?

Clary sat down in front of me, her two braids swinging. For a minute, I stared at the back of her head. Why wasn't she turning around to talk to me? How could she sit there like she hadn't even noticed me?

I had to know her. I had to talk to her. I just had to.

Ignoring the queer thumping of my heart, I leaned forward and tugged on one braid. She whipped around, nearly catching me with a mouthful of hair. Again, those green eyes pierced me and held me in place, unable to think, to move, to talk.

"What?" She asked.

You know how I said the second way to make conversation with a girl was to tease her? Well, that's exactly what I did.

I felt my mouth pull up into a smile. "Hey, Carrot."

Immediately, whatever warmth she'd previously shown disappeared, and before I even knew what was happening, her hand whipped out lightning quick and slapped me across my face. The loud crack reverberated throughout the classroom and Ms. Fairchild spun around, alarmed. She took in my red cheek and Clary's stormy expression, and her own face turned frosty.

"Clarissa," she said through gritted teeth. "That was unacceptable."

Clary's eyes grew as round as pearls. "But Jace – "

"It doesn't matter. Violence is never the answer. Go sit outside until I can come talk to you."

Clary's face flushed a deep red, almost as red as her hair. As she passed my desk, she narrowed her eyes. "I _hate_ you."

I think my heart literally started breaking form that moment.

For the rest of class, I stared out the window. Those burning eyes kept flashing back to me.

She hated me, all because I like her.

…

"Fantastic," Clary said, rolling her eyes. "Now that you've made me sound like a completely heartless bitch, can I explain my side?"

Jace smiled cockily. "I'm sure more than half of it will be comprised of 'Jace is so hot.'"

"We were nine then," she said dryly. "I don't think I knew the second definition of hot."

"Well, you certainly appreciated my good looks then, didn't you."

She sent him a death glare. Just because hearing his first impression of her had made her feel slightly warm and fuzzy inside didn't mean that she didn't remember the thing that had led to their divorcing.

"Jace, you did very well," Stephen Herondale said generously. Clary snorted. "Now, Clary, why don't you recount that fateful day."

…

I hated new schools. As soon as you walked through the doors, fifty pairs of suspicious eyes would turn to stare at you, as if you were an alien with five heads and seventeen eyes.

That's exactly what happened when I walked into Ms. Fairchild's third grade classroom. Heads swiveled from staring at the whiteboard to me.

Ms. Fairchild smiled kindly. "Class, this is Clarissa. Tell us something about yourself."

I froze momentarily. I hated attention, and being up there in front of everyone made me nervous. "It's Clary," I said, my voice sounding small, even to my own ears. "And I like to draw."

Then suddenly, a boy was raising his hand. His head was ringed by a halo of golden locks and his eyes, locked on mine were the same melting color. I felt my breath catch.

The teacher nudged me forward, and I realized I was supposed to sit near him. My whole body buzzed with nervousness. How was I supposed to concentrate when there was some god-like creature sitting directly behind me?

And then he pulled by hair.

See, I've always been sort of self-conscious of my hair. While some people pined for red hair and went so far as to dye their hair, I found the color disconcerting. It drew extra attention to me – attention I didn't need. And it wasn't even the pretty auburn red. My hair was _red_, even verging a bit on orange.

"Hey, Carrot."

That was when I exploded. I didn't care how cute he was. My hair was a sensitive topic, and he had just broached the line. There was a loud crack in the room as my hand made contact with his cheek.

The next thing I knew, I was being escorted from the room by a very pissed Ms. Fairchild.

The rest of the school day was a blur, but one thing remained clear: Jace Wayland would never get away with this.

…

"How dramatic," Jace rolled his eyes. "Maybe you should go audition for a soap opera or something."

Clary glared. "I'm just trying to be as honest as possible. Besides, you got me in trouble on my _first_ day of school. Ms. Fairchild bitched me out in the hallway and treated me like shit for the rest of the year. You had to pay."

Jace laughed. "By the way, I think I heard you call me hot in your story."

"I did not," Clary cried indignantly.

"Right. It was even better. You called me a god." He smirked.

"Yes, well, judging from your egotistical version, you already knew you were hot."

The lawyer smiled. "So then what happened?"

"Then," Clary said gravely. "I met Isabelle."

…

After Ms. Fairchild's totally unfair tirade, I was too angry to try to make friends and found myself sitting alone at lunch. Mom had packed me a sandwich with pickles, and I spent a better half of lunch trying to pluck them out. I had just taken a big bite when a shadow fell over me.

A tall girl with jet black hair and matching dark eyes stood before me. I felt my jaw slacken.

Had I seen her somewhere? A Macy's magazine maybe? She was so gorgeous.

"Isabelle Lightwood," she said, sticking out her hand.

"Clary Fray," I said.

"I know," Isabelle said, sitting down next to me. "I'm in your class. I have to say, I'm very impressed by what you did to my brother."

"Your brother? Oh. You mean Jace." My stomach dropped. This was great. The only girl who was nice enough to talk to me would now be bitching me out.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't bother. He gets on my nerves all the time. I beat him up regularly at home. Or at least when Mom and Dad are out."

I felt my eyes widen. Wow. Isabelle Lightwood was seriously amazing. "You guys don't look alike."

"Nope," she said lightly. "He was adopted."

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I'd never met anyone adopted before.

"I've been told the resemblance is striking." Isabelle's mouth quirked up in a smile.

I felt my face stretching into a grin. "I think I'm going to like you a lot, Isabelle."

…

Clary finished recounting her first encounter with Isabelle with a wistful smile on her face. It started Jace; he'd almost forgotten how she'd looked besides the constant scowl she had on around him.

But that was a lie. You could never forget someone's face – some you had known and had loved for nineteen years. You had that person's every expression, every detail, every curve and shape of their body memorized to heart and seared in your brain.

He just chose to try not to remember.

"So that's how you guys became good friends," he said. "By trashtalking me."

"It gave us common ground," Clary stated, unabashed.

"And did I hear you say 'bitching'? Ugh, even as a third grader, you were terrible. I should have known."

Jace knew he'd hit the mark then. Clary looked like she wanted to leap out of the chair and strangle him. Luckily, Herondale chose to butt in at that moment.

"And through her you two became good friends as well?" He questioned.

"Nope," Jace said, popping the "p."

"He kept pulling my hair," Clary accused.

"Hey! You can't blame a guy for trying. I only wanted an excuse to talk to you."

"And you decided that by continuing to make fun of my hair, I would suddenly be nice to you?"

"Well," Jace said darkly. "That was before you started calling me Goldilocks."

Clary snickered, and even the bastard Herondale smiled. "Oh, right. Can't believe I forget that one."

"I assume this animosity eventually went away though?" Herondale mused. "Considering the fact that you two are now married."

That snapped both of them back to reality. A palpable coldness, almost like a winter draft, settled in the room. Jace and Clary glared at each other.

"Not really," Clary said finally. "Not until high school."

"Ah," Herondale said. "We'll save that for the next session. I believe we're over time." He smiled. "Maybe the next guy out there has already taken three girls' v-cards already, eh?"

Clary and Jace both glanced up at the clock, astonished to see it read 1:25. They were more than thirty minutes over.

"Oh, God," Clary apologized. "We're terribly sorry. I'm so sorry."

Herondale waved them off good-naturedly. "See you guys next week."

Outside, Jace casted a sideways look at his wife. "Taking v-cards, huh?"

She huffed. "Don't start."

They reached the lobby door and stood there awkwardly.

"Well," he said, running a hand through his hair for lack of better things to do. "I'll see you next week, I guess."

Clary looked like she was about to say something, but in the end, all she gave was a stiff nod before turning and walking away from him.

Just like always.

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**Whew. That took a long time to write, so please, for the love of God, review. You have no idea how long that took me.**

**IMPORTANT FEEDBACK NEEDED:**

**- Is it easy to understand whose perspectives the first person portions are? Or do you guys prefer for JPOV and CPOV to be specified**

**- Longer chapters, but longer waits? its pretty hard to break chapters like these up, so if they're short chapters, each chapter will end awkwardly and begin awkwardly. I want this story to provide the best reading experience possible, so I'm hoping to not split them up, but what do you guys think? Longer chapters or shorter?**

**Please leave comments! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for all the feedback, your input and words meant a lot :) Also apologies for the long wait; school's really rough**

**Teasers for Chapter Three at the end!**

**Disclaimer: Character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, and backgrounds belong to me. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization. **

**Apologies in advance for any errors.**

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**TWO **

"So," Herondale said, leaning forward on his elbows. They were back in his office for round two of the "process," as the lawyer liked to call it. Clary and Jace were one of the more interesting cases he had. He loved to watch them bicker back and forth; their jibes were amusing, interesting, and it was obvious there was still something salvageable between them. "If I remember correctly, we finished third grade last time. For the rest of elementary school, you two remained enemies?"

He smiled inwardly while watching the two squirm. He had immediately launched into the session without giving them time to adjust being in such close proximity to each other. Oops.

"Oh, definitely," Clary was the first to speak. "I hated him with every ounce of my being. Kind of like how I feel now."

Jace visibly winced, like a sharp pain had rippled through his body. Herondale watched as he struggled to keep his face impassive and something about that expression tugged at his heart.

"Ouch," Jace said jokingly, or at least, that's what he was hoping for. "Although the feeling's mutual, don't worry."

They glared at each other.

"Okay, okay," Herondale said loudly. "Tell me more about this elementary rivalry."

Seeing the mischevious look crossing their faces, he sat back and grabbed his imaginary popcorn to watch the show.

"Oh," Jace chuckled darkly. "Boy was it a rivalry."

…

Fifth grade rolled around the corner, and it was undoubtedly the best year of elementary school. It was the last year, and we were finally the top dogs, able to boss around the little kids.

And, of course, Clary just happened to be in my class. Again.

It was like some kind of sign of fate. Two years of classes together. What were the odds of that? (Although last year, we had been put in separate classes. That sucked, not being able to see her adorable face scrunched up in anger, but I always found a way to tease her during recess and lunch and afterschool. Pulling her hair, stealing her lunch…you name it.)

With Clary in my class, the whole grade was eager for the year to start. The people not in our class groaned with anger at not being able to see our fights in class. Those in our class were ecstatic.

Things picked up where they ended in third grade.

When Clary stepped past my chair to sharpen her pencil, I stuck my foot out, causing her to gasp as she stumbled. When she raised her hair and answered in that intelligent sweet voice, I'd counter with a snarky remark of my own. When we formed groups, I always made sure to somehow include her friends in my group.

Unlike third grade, though, the teacher thought I was a devil, and Clary the angel.

The biggest rivalry that developed was over projects and art lessons. Clary, if you didn't know already, was amazing at art. Absolutely amazing. She could open galleries of her own, and millions of people would flock to admire her work. We competed to see whose artworks were better, although hers always won.

During the clay unit, however, things took a turn.

We were sculpting faces, and mine was horribly grotesque. The nose was misshapen and too angular, the eyes like two round buttcheeks squished together. The mouth stretched widely, taking up how of his face, and the block teeth inside showed. One look at Clary's and that was enough to make my jaw drop to the floor.

It was beautiful. She was building a guy and he looked like an angel. He was perfect in every way.

"Hey, Carrottop," I smirked. "Your sculpture is pretty accurate. Looks a lot like me. Do you have a crush or something?"

Her face scrunched up as she lost concentration, and she lifted her head to snap some sharp retort.

That is, until she say my clay head.

Her giggles morphed into laughter, and suddenly she bent over, guffawing. Now I was seriously mad, because her snickering hurt my pride big time. Clary did look beautiful laughing though…

The next time she stood up to get more clay, I snuck over to her desk and smashed the perfect nose down. The angel now looked like a fat obese man.

Clary returned to her desk and screamed, causing the teacher to bolt over. "Honey, what's wrong?"

Clary looked as if she was ready to sob. Her face was red and splotchy, but she only said, "Nothing. I saw a spider." The wicked glare she sent me, however, shocked me to the bone and made me tremble with excitement. Oh, it was so on.

After a few minutes, I had to go piss. I didn't want to leave my seat, but I also didn't want to wet my pants. In the end, dignity triumphed, and I sprinted to the bathroom. I went as fast as I could, the piss practically spilling over the urinal, but as soon as every pair of eyes zoomed in on me, gauging my reaction, as I entered the classroom, I knew the damage had been done.

Making my way to the table, I muffled my laughter. The ugly man now had boogers running down his face, a triple chin of fat, and devil horns sticking up from the side. My laughter died away when I saw the letters engraved on the bottom.

_Jace._

Oh, Clary was so asking for it.

Slowly, I made my way to her. She turned to face me, half challenging, half apprehensive.

Her angel had been fixed. I took a deep breath, balled my fist, and slammed it into the clay head. Clary gasped. Then, as quick as a mouse, she grabbed what was left of the angel and stuffed it down my shirt.

Dear God, if that wasn't both the best and worst experience of my life. Being so close to her, smelling her vanilla scented hair, having her pull open my shirt and her fingers brush my skin..

Then having slimy, sticky goo slip down my body.

I grabbed the remainder of the clay and smeared it into her hair. She screamed bloody murder.

By now, the teacher had already heard the commotion and was rushing towards us with rapid speed. She hauled us apart, Clary screaming and crying, me, worked up and red, and dragged us outside, her face contorted in anger.

"Jace," she growled. "I am sorely tempted to send you to the principal's office right now." My chin jutted out defiantly. "But I won't. You will sit outside and think about what you did. Clary, come with me to get cleaned up."

I fumed with anger, but as I watched the teacher lead Clary away, Clary turned around and shot me a mischievous, triumphant smirk.

I couldn't help me grin back, even though I had lost.

She was one evil girl, but she was my girl.

…

Jace finished, chuckling, and was surprised to hear Clary laughing uncontrollably besides him. Herondale was smiling too, but both men turned to stare at her spasming form.

"Sorry," she gasped. "That story reminded me of another time. Valentine's Day."

Hearing those few words, Jace groaned and lowered his head into his hands. "Now _that_ was one mortifying experience."

"One we will definitely continue next time," Herondale said, jotting it down quickly in their file. "See? Sitting so close isn't that bad, is it?" He gestured to their arms, now lying less than two centimeters from each other.

Both of them jerked away as if electrocuted, before sending withering glares to each other.

Herondale rolled his eyes as they stalked out of his office.

Kids.

* * *

**Short, I know. I'm sticking with long chapters, so this one is an outlier. I've written almost half of chapter three already, and it's a monster! I hope this wasn't too much of a disappointment; hopefully it made you laugh.**

**Sneak peeks of chapter three, cause I feel bad for such a short chapter and a long update period:**

**Teaser One**

I stood there, shocked, waiting for him to get up and go back to taunting me, but he just lay there, spasming, hands clutching at his chest and his throat, gasping for air.

"Clary, help!" He gasped out, eyes roaming wildly before they locked on my face.

"Jace?" I whispered.

"I can't breathe! I need CPR! Kiss me, sweetheart!"

I'm pretty sure my mouth fell open right then and there. CPR? Mouth to mouth? _Sweetheart?_ I'd be _kissing _him. And furthermore, this was only a costume. I didn't actually know how to perform CPR.

Jace was still squirming on the ground.

**Teaser Two**

"So, you want to sleep with me?" She dipped a strawberry in the pooling chocolate and lifted it to her mouth.

Suddenly, my mouth was so, so dry.

"Uh…" My eyes were pinned on her lips, wrapped around that strawberry. "W-what?"

**Excited? Review please!**


	3. Chapter 3

**What's tomorrow? SAT-urday **** Thank you collegeboard for ruining my weekend!**

**Just a heads up: this chapter is one of the longest I've ever written. **

**Disclaimer: Character names belong to Cassandra Clare. All characterizations, plot lines, and backgrounds belong to me. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without written authorization. **

* * *

**THREE**

"Hey, Goldilocks," a snarky voice greeted him as he walked into Herondale Divorce Firm.

"Carrottop," Jace nodded stiffly, knowing full well he was fueling the fire.

Clary scowled.

Together they walked into Stephen Herondale's office, keeping their distance, until they confronted the chairs in the office.

Jace made a face. "Seriously, Herondale, why can't you just get regular chairs?"

The lawyer smiled mysteriously. "Patience, Jace. You'll see. But please, have a seat." Once they settled in comfortably, or as comfortably as they could get being so close to each other, Herondale spoke again. "Where did we leave off?"

"High school," Clary said. "Or – "

"Actually, we'd just finished elementary school," Jace said. "If I remember correctly, we were getting to middle school."

"I was just going to say that," his wife snarled through gritted teeth, "until, like always, you rudely interrupted."

"Nothing happened in junior high?" Herondale asked, ignoring their little spat. "No sparks? Nothing? Because that's when most kids begin dating."

Clary began smirking. "Well, in middle school, Jace became a real whore."

"I did not," he glowered. "I only dated more than the average guy, that's all. It wasn't even my fault. Girls threw themselves at me. And in my defense, you started dating Simon then, so of course what was I to do but retaliate?"

"For the love of God and everything that's holy – "

"Like me? I do remember you calling me god two weeks ago."

" – I did not date Simon!" Clary huffed. "I told you a billion times, we were just good friends. And besides, he's not happily dating Isabelle."

Jace ignored this. "Meanwhile, I continued my pining from afar, still continuing to mend my scarred and broken heart that Clary had mangled in elementary school."

That almost, _almost_ brought a smile to her face. "Oh, quit being melodramatic." She turned back to the lawyer. "But otherwise, nothing really happened. We had a few classes together, and we kept on getting detentions for always fighting and getting in trouble. That, of course, made me hate him even more. I was a perfect student, and nobody really noticed me. Then suddenly, since Jace became this huge hotshot, I became known as the number one card holder for the We Hate Jace club."

"Which had only one member, obviously." Jace grinned. He couldn't stop himself from provoking her; it was too much to watch her getting all hot and bothered. "I liked detention. It meant more time with you. And also I had to carry on the whole hatred façade or else people would have discovered that I liked her. Not that I bothered to hide it, exactly. I played my affections so sarcastically that everyone assumed I was just mocking her."

Clary groaned. "Oh, my God. You were so mortifying. Ugh, I can't even."

"What happened?" Herondale prompted, a smile curling over his lip. This was about to get interesting, he thought.

Clary shot Jace a sharp but amused look from the corner of her eye, before sighing dramatically. "He basically ruined my childhood Halloween experience."

Jace burst out laughing, and Clary smiled apologetically at Herondale's confused, questioning glance.

"Here," she said. "Let me explain what happened."

...

As a kid, my favorite holidays had always been Christmas and my birthday, because really, what kid doesn't count their birthday as a holiday? Thanksgiving was great, with the surplus of food and whatnot, but along with it came suffocating family reunions and awkward relative encounters. Therefore, Halloween always came as a close second. It was an excuse to dress up and eat free candy.

In seventh grade, Isabelle and I decided to coordinate our costumes for the school Halloween carnival. Rebellious and headstrong, she wanted to be a doctor, since we had just learned in history class how doctors were often stereotyped as male. So, always following in her wake, I dressed up as a nurse.

I loved my costume. Mom helped me design a cute little white dress, complete with a Red Cross hat, a first aid kit, and even a stethoscope. She even allowed me to use some of her makeup, and I painted dabs of blood along my arms and fingertips. When Isabelle arrived to pick me up for school (without her brother, who was riding to school with his friend Sebastian, thank god), we squealed with excitement at how great we looked.

Isabelle was the perfect doctor. She rocked those blue scrubs better than any guy could have.

Of course, who else would kill our buzz besides the infamous bully, Jace Wayland?

I guess I should have expected it, because Halloween is a holiday for blood and gore and frights. Among the myriad of events the carnival boasted were a creepy haunted house, tall, dropping rides, and, as always, little kid games for small children.

Against my screeching protests, Isabelle dragged me into the haunted house.

Within the first three minutes, a total of ten things had either

Jumped out in front of me

Grabbed some part of my body (inappropriately too once, where the object/person immediately stumbled back)

or

Screamed or hissed in my ear.

Needless to say, I was quite traumatized and ready to pee in my skirt. While I was still recovering from the near boob grope, frantically readjusting my shirt, Isabelle miraculously disappeared. Now I was lost in a dark corridor with horrifying things ready to pop out and possibly molest me from every corner.

Suddenly, I heard something hiss, "Clary!"

I froze, clutching my first aid kit to my chest in dear life, and spun slowly, examining the surroundings.

"Clary!"

I whirled towards the noise, and saw a faint gold flashing around a corner. Jace, my mortal enemy, but at least that was better than being alone in a haunted house.

I walked as quickly as possible towards him, shrieking as spiders dropped from the ceiling. The asshole grinned. As I got closer, I could make out in the darkness a mask that covered most of his forehead and eyes.

"Batman?" I scoffed. "Yeah, right. You are so not Bruce Wayne."

"It's not who I am underneath, but what I do that defines me," he growled deeply, a poor attempt to quote Batman. "Say, Isabelle told me you guys were matching?" His eyes scan over me and something evil twinkles in his eyes. "You look nice, Nurse Fray."

My cheeks flamed red and I silently thanked the gods or whoever was up there for the darkness in the haunted house. I hated how he made me blush with his sarcastic comments. He'd been doing it more often lately with over exaggerated compliments, like "You look _so_ beautiful that my eyes hurt to behold your radiant smile."

Funny because I never smiled at him, not funny because everyone chuckled at the sarcasm dripping from every word.

I opened my mouth, about to retort, when he bent low and murmured into my ear, "Can you give me a full body exam?"

I choked on my own spit at the suggestive tone of his voice. We were only in seventh grade for hell's sake! Jace started laughing, his teeth reflecting in the darkness, when suddenly, his hands flew to his chest and he collapsed on the floor. Right in the middle of the haunted house.

I stood there, shocked, waiting for him to get up and go back to taunting me, but he just lay there, spasming, hands clutching at his chest and his throat, gasping for air.

"Clary, help!" He gasped out, eyes roaming wildly before they locked on my face.

"Jace?" I whispered.

"I can't breathe! I need CPR! Kiss me, sweetheart!"

I'm pretty sure my mouth fell open right then and there. CPR? Mouth to mouth? _Sweetheart?_ I'd be _kissing _him. And furthermore, this was only a costume. I didn't actually know how to perform CPR.

Jace was still squirming on the ground.

Now, take a second to remember that I had just been scared to pieces in the haunted house, Isabelle had just ditched me, and I'd received my first groping. On top of everything, Jace had just sexually, verbally violated me. So, needless to say, I was at the end of my rope.

And now that Jace was dying, I almost lost my mind. I closed my eyes, fisted my hands by my sides, and screamed my lungs out.

"HELP! HELP! HELP! HELP!"

Instantly, everything shut down. All lights turned on, and footsteps pounded from every direction, all of them headed towards us. Hearing the adults shouting that they were coming, I opened my eyes, breathing out a sigh of relief, and glanced down to where Jace was sprawled on the ground.

Only he wasn't.

He was standing upright, a hand cupped behind his neck, staring at me like I was crazy. His face was flushed red, like he was embarrassed.

"Clary…" He bit his lip.

"What the hell?" I shouted. "Did you just - ?"

"What happened, sweetheart?" Some random adult careened around a corner, followed by several more adults and students eager to see what had happened. Their eyes scanned the room, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

_Sweetheart? Was the world hell-bent on mocking me?_

By then, my face was probably redder than the fake blood on my arms and hands. I had just fallen for Jace Asshole Wayland's stupid little prank and had stopped the entire haunted house.

Could my life get any more mortifying?

"Nothing, Ms. Blackthorn," Jace apologized. "Clary couldn't handle the haunted house and she freaked out."

Ms. Blackthorn's eyebrows disappeared behind her hairline and her lips thinned a little. "I'm sorry, but I think I'm going to have to escort _both_ of you out of the haunted house. This was a disruption to everyone enjoying their time. You guys are forbidden from entering again. Do you understand?"

And as the kids snickered, I had an urge to use the f-word for the first time in my life.

…

Jace's snickers had morphed from muffled chuckles into outright laughter as he clutched his stomach. Clary knew the story was unarguably hilarious, so she, for the first time in a long time, she didn't bother sending him a withering glare and instead allowed herself a small smile as well.

"Oh, don't get so smug," she half-snarked, half-teased. "I distinctly remember your Valentine's Day being ruined, not only once, but twice."

Hearing this, he groaned. "Did you really have to remind me?"

"Well, since we've brought up that topic – "

"Since _you_ brought it up."

" – why don't you tell Mr. Herondale about it?"

Jace rolled his eyes, making it seem like a huge favor he was doing for her. "Alright, _sweetheart_, just for you."

…

Valentine's Day.

The obligatory day where men spend fortunes on women. Pink balloons, huge teddy bears, heart shaped chocolate…worthless, superficial objects, you name it. I mean, sure, a teddy bear that says, "I love you" might be cute for an hour, but what the hell was it useful for after a day or two? It was the real emotion that mattered. Valentine's Day was overrated. I didn't need a special day to remind myself of who I loved.

Thank god I'd broken up with Aline three weeks ago. No need to buy her anything. I knew Clary loved flowers, so maybe I'd get her roses (I know, I know. I said those were pointless, but if she loved them…) but there only thing that'd result would be me with thousands of thorns sticking out from my body.

Don't ask me why, but our eighth grade teacher, who had recently gotten engaged, attempted to "spread the love" by forcing us to make a special something for every single student in the class. Every. Single. Student.

Naturally, I went to the nearest drugstore and bought the cheesiest Valentine's Day cards we distributed for elementary school. Disney princesses? My favorite.

Only they weren't the innocent little princess messages. My friends and I spent hours altering the messages into perverted innuendos.

Cinderella, "Wanna see if it fits?"

Snow White: "I'd like to take a bite out of you."

Pocahontas: "Let's roll in the riches all around us."

We were brilliant. I spent probably ten minutes choosing the perfect card for Clary, finally deciding on Sleeping Beauty, who had a devilish smile on her face. On it, I scribbled, "Wanna sleep with this beauty?"

Oh, I couldn't wait to see the look on her face.

On the day of the party, I managed to snatch her away from the crowd, where the rest of the kids were crowded around the chocolate fountain in the back of the classroom. Grabbing her card from the back of my jean pocket – I'd placed it there to seem nonchalant and totally uncaring about this whole thing – and handed it to her.

She didn't immediately open the card though, instead tucking it away in her pocket. And when she pulled out a small sack of chocolates, identical to those she gave to everyone else, I took it from her somewhat suspiciously. I'd expected her to, I don't know, give me rocks or something.

"Are these stale?" I asked her, shaking the chocolate hearts in her face.

She rolled her eyes but didn't deny anything. "Stale chocolate won't kill you, Jace."

"And are these hearts representing the love you feel for me? These lip-shaped chocolates your wish to kiss me?"

"Don't be so full of yourself," she said. And just like that, she turned around and walked away, tossing a nasty smirk over her shoulder.

She was so hot brushing me off I nearly pissed in my pants.

Still slightly stunned, I shook my head to clear the air and opened her gift. Inside, she'd left a note with a poem, which I eagerly grabbed.

_Roses are red_

_Violets are blue_

_Your hair looks like pee_

_And you stink like poo_

_(And even though it's Valentine's Day_

_I still hate you)_

Laughing my ass off, I glanced up, catching Clary's eye and grinned, my hand wrapping around the bag of chocolates tightly. It didn't matter if the chocolate was stale or not. I was keeping that shit forever.

The teacher began playing a movie in class, and, when I saw Clary stand up from her seat to head towards the chocolate fountain, I followed.

"So, you want to sleep with me?" She dipped a strawberry in the pooling chocolate and lifted it to her mouth.

Suddenly, my mouth was so, so dry.

"Uh…" My eyes were pinned on her lips, wrapped around that strawberry. "W-what?"

She smirked, licking the chocolate off her fingers. She freaking smirked, like she knew exactly what she was doing to me. I should have known she was still that wicked little girl who dumped clay down my shirt.

"Your card?" She prompted.

"Ah..right."

Fantastic. I sounded like an unintelligible oaf.

"Well, I'm not going to sleep with you, but I thought…" her eyes darted around the dark classroom. Everyone's eyes were trained on the screen at the front. "…since it _is_ Valentine's Day…"

As quick as a flash, she flashed me. No pun intended.

My eyes flew wide, my heart jumped to my mouth, and I promptly stumbled into the chocolate fountain.

By the time I had gotten a hold of my surroundings, I was sitting butt down on the floor, covered from head to toe in chocolate. The fountain laid broken by my side.

Seeing everyone's shocked faces, I should have been mortified. I should have been angry. But all I could think of were Clary's boobs.

…

"And the funniest thing was that I didn't actually flash him," Clary said, once Jace finished speaking.

"Oh?" Herondale cocked an eyebrow.

"She was wearing a nude colored tank top," Jace grumbled. "When I found that out, I got pissed."

The red-head rolled her eyes. "Did you really think I'd do something like that? Really? Miss Prude-Who-Refused-to-Kiss-You-Even-As-You-Were-Dyi ng?"

"I was a fourteen year old boy," Jace snapped. "Give me a break. And it's not like you remained a prude, especially since I was there to corrupt you."

"You say that as if corrupting people is a talent," she retorted, throwing him a look coated with disgust. "Why don't you just admit your stupidity instead of blaming everything on me?"

"Why would I do that when you're obviously at fault?"

"Ugh! You're so – so – "

A loud knock resounded throughout the room, saving Clary from the embarrassment of losing to Jace in a battle of wits. Herondale's head tilted to glance at his watch, then up to shrug apologetically at the couple.

"Time's up," he informed them, almost dolefully. "Until next time, my friends."

"We're not friends," Clary grumbled. "At least, not everyone in this room is."

"I couldn't agree more," her husband snapped back as they stalked towards the door.

"Don't agree with me!"

"What? So you dictate what I can and cannot think now too?"

"_Oh my God_. You're doing this on purpose, aren't you."

"Doing what?"

"This! Provoking me!"

"I'm sorry, why would I want to seem provocative to you? Last time I checked, you wanted to castrate – "

The door slammed shut behind them as the next clients ushered in, eyes wide and looking a bit bewildered. Herondale chuckled awkwardly.

"They obviously still have a long way to go," he said.

* * *

**Link for the Valentine's Day cards: **

. /-NGwE0kQnFHg/URxqkjshYKI/AAAAAAAARSU/OtNIiPX5aSA/ s1600/disney+

**There's more I didn't include in the story; theyre all hilarious. Not mine btw**

**Next chapter: Freshmen year. High school years will begin to span multiple chapters.**


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